Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Whitman’s eyes and Cavafy’s days - 1. In he the one I saw last night
In he the one I saw last night,
They the ones of name,
Those of Poets’ reputations
Saw him too.
In the eyes of Whitman,
In the days of Cavafy,
This boy glowed.
His long, young, proud,
And powerful hands moved.
He smiled at his talk-mate,
A sideways smile, his eyes on mine;
The shy smile, meant for me.
In these, in what we passed,
In the longing that went from him
Beyond his companion, I knew.
That while his friend struck his
Knee, moved his own young hand
Along his thigh, the blond head,
The shy smile and the knowing
Went to me: communion.
So they were there, they knew,
Those great names who wrote
Their passion. Not sex,
Not exactly, but love none the less.
So Whitman’s eyes, Cavafy’s days,
The blond man’s hand and I,
Were one.
- 12
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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